The Third Choice.
by Juliss the Severed Snake
Summary: CHAPTER 7 UPLOADED!*Three brothers, Mecktub, Omnisedeck and Imhotep were hunting in the desert and came over the mysterious God with peculiar sense of humor. He offered them three gifts, and the right to choose one of them.* R/R!
1. Mecktub, Commander of Med-Ji.Arrogance

Untitleds.html KIND OF INTRODUCTION: 

_Hi, guys!___

_I'm currently posting the most demented "The Mummy" fanfiction, "Mummies never die or Imhotep's chase"._   
_But some mysterious itching in my fingers makes me to write something more…serious, I would say. Actually,_   
_the question, which used to bother me is why the Hell those Egyptian lunatics decided to inflict the pest on_   
_their own asses and condemned our hero suffer Hom-Dai or whichever it was. To protect the treasures? To_   
_scare Roman and Greek tourists with silly ghost stories? Anyway, here I tried to explain at least part of those_   
_enigmatic things.___

_I know that my English sucks, so it depends on your patience and endurance whether I'll continue or not._   
_Please review and let me know if you want to read more!_   
  
  


**The Third Choice**

_By Seti the Last, High Priest of Seth_   
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**Chapter 1: Mecktub, Commander of Med-Ji. Arrogance**

Vot tak propel nebesnii shanson'e   
Vot tak sudili pravednie bogi.   
Tri brata bilo nas v odnoi sem'e   
I kajdii shel po sobstvennoi doroge. 

Ancient Egyptian song   


My brother, open your eyes and look at me… 

Three of us brothers were hunting in the desert that morning, that morning when the beams of sun were   
dancing at the tops of sand hills, burning our lungs, blurring our sight. Dogs, black hounds of Anubis, beasts of Abyss-even these dogs were tired now and staggered through the sands, their tongues dangling from their mouths. 

It was stiffing, it was dazing, top of summer day in Egypt. 

Instantly something disturbed our hounds, they 'd sprang into life, and sprinted through the sparkling air,   
barking wildly, chasing some animal…the antelope, with her fur colored in pure gold in this melted torrent of sun   
radiance. We spurred our steeds and raced after our dogs in frantic pursue. 

After minutes-or may be hours, for time was as blurred as the line of horizon in this mad chase, we've lost our   
dogs, more than that-we've lost our own tracks in endless monotonous sands. 

It was disaster. Our horses were exhausted, our stores of water were small and our despair was growing. I   
said our-I mean mine and my second brother's, Omnisedeck, we were desperate, but our youngest brother   
considered it no more than exciting adventure. 

We dismounted and were leading our steeds by the reins, looking for any signs of human dwelling, for patch of   
green in the gold of desert. 

Then I noticed some movement on the top of one of the hills. We hurried to it and saw old wrinkled wretch,   
curled in the hole between two low sand mounds. He raised his haggard brown face, in sun burns and sores, and   
croaked: 

-Water! Give me some water! 

I turned away, full of pity mingled with disgust, and heard the angry voice of Omnisedeck: 

-You wretched fool, we have no water to share! 

But then the voice of my third brother came: 

-Come on, if we are doomed to perish in this desert your miserable draughts wouldn't save us. This man is   
dying. 

I swiveled around to see this stupid brother of mine, giving his last water to dying beggar. But- I couldn't   
believe my eyes-wretched man didn't drink the water, no, he just poured it onto the ground. Ready to strike, I dashed to him-and stopped dead on my tracks. Fresh green grass shot from the sands, trees and flowers bloomed on the banks of little brook, winding between the roots. I gasped, trying to comprehend, my brother Omnisedeck shrieked and turned to run. 

-Stop, you fools!-laughed the youngest of us-first time in your boring lives you witnessed the real miracle and 

are ready to fly like scared girls! 

He stepped forward to greet the mysterious man, but there was no man in themagical grove-only gigantic   
statue of God with three faces turned to three sides of the world. Face of fierce falcon with his beak wide open,   
face of rapacious crocodile and the third, face of dog or may be hyena, baring his fangs in hollow laugh. 

We, me and my brother Omnisedeck, have knelt before the horrible God, but third of us only bowed his head-he   
always was too proud, my youngest brother. 

-Mortals - bellowed the statue, in three different voices coming from three different throats- You, who came 

unasked in this sacred grove, who disturbed my solitude- I greet you! You amused me, and I'm going to endow 

you with the gifts, one gift for every one of you. Power, Wealth or Love-these are my gifts, and you are free to 

choose, but remember-only one of them! 

I gulped the air, tasting of sand and blood-I should speak first, eldest of us all. I faced the Head of Hawk and   
uttered my choice: 

-Power!-for power was the most desired thing for me in this world. 

My second brother, greedy and rapacious, bowed to Crocodile Head and whispered: "Wealth". 

But the youngest of us laughed, looking at Great God, and exclaimed arrogantly: 

-Power and wealth-those are things that man can fetch by himself, without help from the Gods. But Love…well, 

you unknown benefactor, let it be Love! 

And the Statue laughed in return, and this hollow terrible laugh still awakes me sometime on the death of   
night.   


***********   


We returned from the desert, unharmed, and we hadn't told the story to anyone.   


Years passed. I am the Commander of Med-Ji, secret Pharaoh's bodyguards, Left Hand of Pharaoh. Omnisedeck   
became the Treasurer, and all the underground chambers of Hamunaptra, full of jewels and gold, are his   
domains. But most lucky, most powerful, and the richest of us is Imhotep, my third brother, Pharaoh's High   
Priest, hated by many but adored by most of the men in two kingdoms.   
  



	2. The curse

tc3a.html _Author's note: First, thank you for your reviews, they gave me strength to continue. Second, I beg my pardon for several discrepancies in the story with TM reality, as well as with historical facts._   
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**Chapter 2: Nome Ta-she, Shet (Crocodilopolis), Sobek's festival, spring of 1284 B.C. The curse.**   
****

_ -It's the curse…It's the curse! Beware of the curse!!!!!!!!!!!___

_ Benny Gabor, "The Mummy"._   
__

Water in the sacred crocodiles' pool splashed again, and next hapless prisoner dropped into it with terrible howl. Glinting of sun on the green scales, surf, beating and cry-and the foam colored in red. Crowd cheered and roared.   
Tall shaved man turned his eyes from the abominable picture with visible disgust and addressed to his companion, short burly man, dressed in jewels and gold: 

-Pathetic. And pointless. These prisoners could be of more use in Karnak , Pharaoh's engineers cannot finish the 

Temple because of lack of the workers and you're feeding them here to your favorite beasts in stupid 

anachronous ritual! Tradition clearly states that human sacrifice is of no need except when the year is 

extremely arid, and only effect of all this show is entertaining of the stupid crowd and your ravenous pets. 

-No respect to Gods, Imhotep?-smiled the second man- and that from the High Priest of Osiris? Sounds strange. 

-I have respect to Gods, Omnisedeck, if the gods are worth to be respected. But this stupid ancient tradition "One 

Nome-one God" got on my nerves. Worshipping of monkey's, foxes, parrots? Erection of magnificent Temples to 

glorify frogs and bulls? A bit more and we'll descend to the barbarians' superstitions and will worship every 

dirty stone on the banks of Nile. 

-Still obsessed with the idea of One God? 

-No. Tradition is too strong, and, besides, we have evidences that the number of really powerful Gods is larger- 

with these words High Priest smiled, as if remembering something amusing, and his interlocutor shuddered. 

-Don't you...-mumbled he. 

-Oh, don't be afraid, brother. I'm not going to insult your patron. Who else could provide you with thousands of 

wretches, who prefer slavery rather than pit with scorpions? Still profiting on miserable, who couldn't pay their 

debts and are selling their bodies and souls to you, Omnisedeck? To be fed to crocodiles or perish in leaden 

mines, or be whipped to death on the building of temple for the next false God? It's the source of your 

God-worshipping, isn't it, brother?-sneered Imhotep, eyeing his elder brother with slight shadow of 

loathing in his dark eyes. 

Omnisedeck was about to answer something, but was distracted by earsplitting cries from the crowd and the noise of fight from the sacred pool. Both men turned to see the giant black prisoner, struggling against his chains and violently cursing. The Sobek's servants in crocodile masks desperately tried to hold him, but the man's strength was terrifying. 

-In the name of Anpu, who is it?- asked Imhotep, looking with mild curiosity as the one of the priests let go of 

prisoner's arm, stumbled and fell into pool with terrible howl. Crocodiles' jaws immediately checked his cry. 

Omnisedeck smiled proudly. 

-My main sacrifice to Sobek this year. He is the chief of savage tribe from the sough, and also their 

great shaman. Impressing, isn't he? Strong as elephant and fierce -best sacrifice to Crocodile God. 

-Shaman-muttered Imhotep, looking at the fighting man doubtfully-order to stop ritual, immediately! 

-Why?-croaked fat man, dumbstruck. 

-First cut off his tongue and rip out his eyes. This man is dangerous, I'm not sure what would be his last effort to 

revenge on us. 

After a minute hesitation Omnisedeck shouted the orders to the priests, but too late. With horrible laugh black   
giant freed his second hand and pushed the guardians into the water. Them, balancing on the verge of pool, he raised his eyes to the rostrum, where two brothers were staying.   


-Be damned-thundered the prisoner, forcing the words of foreign Egyptian language with visible effort 

-Damnation on you, on your families, on men, women and children, on the cursed land of Egypt! Pest and disaster 

upon your country, and you-he turned now his insane gaze to the High Priest of Osiris, and, brave as he was, 

Imhotep shuddered involuntary, ­you be condemned to see the death of all whom you loved, to witness their last 

agony as I witnessed the death of my wife and children, burned alive in their house! The doom will follow you, 

never unclenching its claws, your touch will be poisonous, death in your breath! Be damned in this life and in the 

next! Be damned! 

His cry turned into the mad laugh and then into howl of agony when he jumped into the pool and crocodiles' teeth pierced his body. 

Both Imhotep and Omnisedeck were breathing in sharp gasps, looking as the bleeding corpse was dragged deep into water by feasting reptiles. 

Omnisedeck was the first who checked the silence. 

-To whom of us two he was speaking? 

But Imhotep's glance moved to the crowd, which was screaming and running in terror from the body of man, who fell onto the ground, frantically ripping his closes. 

-Black pest-echoed over the heads of thousands men, who gathered here to watch the bloody ritual-Black pest, 

run, run for your life! 

The wave of running men was about to devour the rostrum with priests and aristocracy, when thundering voice of High Priest sounded over rampaging crowds: 

-Don't move without my order, otherwise the gates will be closed and every one of you will be killed! 

Then he waved to his eldest brother, Mecktub, who was pushing his way through the bewildered flock of priests, merchants and aristocrats: 

-Put the guards at the gates. No one should leave the town without my permission. And send the messenger 

to the Pharaoh! 

-Don't teach me how to do my job, little brother-smiled the warrior coldly-you better go and check this ailing 

wretch down there. 

Imhotep nodded slowly and descended the stairs towards the horror-struck faces of Shet's citizens, who parted 

and backed aside to give him a way.   
  
  
  
  
  



	3. The love

TTC3.html **Chapter 3: Thebes, Home of Omnisedeck. The love**

_ - The warriors die on battlefield out of love of Motherland,_   
_ the explorers go deep into the unexplored chasms of ocean out_   
_ of love of truth, but what did you out of love for girl?_   
_ - I let her go.___

_ "The usual miracle"_   


Sun bathed the high porticos and pillars of rich house, making the engraved figures of animals and men move in its dozy haze. The place appeared to be peaceful, statues in shadow of tamarisks and palm-trees, men and woman with big slanting eyes and smiling mouths shimmered when the light breeze touched their stone bodies. The breeze, carrying stench of dead and disaster. 

Chariot with rich decoration speeded through the gates to the inner yard, where horses begun to snort and prance nervously, sensing the smell of smoke and burning flesh. Driver jumped from the chariot, tossed the reins impatiently to his attendance and dashed through the yard to the relatively low and plain building, with the first wisps of smoke floating over its roof. The man rushed to the group of people who watched coolly as several servants were pouring oil from the huge jars in the growing flames. One of the people turned on the sound of steps and his face blanched under the brown tan. 

-Imhotep, my brother, what you are doing here?- stuttered the man. 

-What I AM DOING HERE?!- hissed the new-comer in return, snatching the collar of his brother's tunic-Tell me 

better what you are doing? 

-I ordered to clean my house of corpses, don't you see? Several of the slaves died yesterday, it's necessary to 

purify the place with the fire. 

At that moment men's cries erupted from the doomed building, cries of despair and anguish. 

-Corpses, didn't you say? Congratulations, brother, your flame has more prominent resurrecting power than the 

spells of Isis! 

Omnisedeck gulped nervously and lowered his eyes. 

-Imhotep, they are only the slaves. 

-How many of them are ailing actually? 

-One…dancer, girl from Crete, I've bought her with the last party from Mycenae pirates. Pity she hadn't last long, 

she was perfectly trained. But other lived in the same house, so they all possibly are infected! 

Without spare word Imhotep pushed his brother away and strode to the burning building, ignoring panicked looks on the faces of his men and Omnisedeck's household. 

-Don't do it, brother! -cried the Pharaoh's Treasurer in his back, but in vain. 

Slaves with jars scattered under Imhotep's furious gaze, but he waved them to come back. 

-Extinguish the fires, shut and guard the doors, but don't enter. 

With these words he pulled the collar of his robe over his face and disappeared behind the doors. 

***** 

The air inside was stiffing, full of smoke and horrible stench of many human bodies crammed into the narrow space. At first he couldn't see anything, half-blinded by fumes and the entire gloom of the place. He only heard people stirring, screaming, weeping and praying and cursing in many languages. Then his eyes adjusted to scarce illumination and he noticed that at least fifty men, women and children were packed in the room and doomed to die. 

"Bastard"- whispered he, but at the same moment somebody's arm snatched the rim of his closes and he nearly fall into the jumble of human bodies. He steadied himself and walked through the bulk of tangled hands, legs and heads to the far corner of the room. 

Even as crammed as they were in this ill-fated chamber, people tried to keep themselves as far as possible from the lean body of the girl, lying on the rag at the foot of statue of Maat. Imhotep considered it a bitter irony, because the heart of the girl was about to be weighted against Goddess's feather at the entrance to netherworld. The girl was dying. 

Her eyes, wide open and blazing with fever, looked in darkness under the ceiling, but it wasn't this darkness what she was seeing. She smiled dreamy in Imhotep's face, uttering words of her native language, incomprehensible for him. Her beauty had already that otherworld brand which could be seen on the faces of dying men and little children. Merry expression of her exhausted face made Imhotep shudder with pain and something like compassion, which wasn't an ordinary feeling for him. 

He touched her thin cheek, burning in fever. Girl turned her head recklessly and stared at him. Instantly the light of cognizance appeared in her dark eyes, she strained her last strength and seized his hand with her half-transparent weak fingers. She muttered something, then, seeing that he didn't understand, pulled him nearer. Her fervent breath touched his cheek. She muttered again, this time in his language: 

-Take me out of here. Bring me to my father, he'll reward you beyond your imagination. 

Imhotep smiled bitterly. About what rewards she was talking, poor dying slave girl? 

Then he noticed that the dirty clothe, covering her neck, slid aside, baring her shoulder. Her squinted, then bowed to take a closer look. No sores, no bleeding, the signs of black pest. He listened to her breath. It was frayed, and came out in sharp gasps, but without any signs of asphyxiation, usual for this kind of affliction. The girl obviously was ill, and her disease was dangerous, but it wasn't black plague. 

He stood up and frowned to his thoughts, then shrugged and headed back to the entrance. Guards opened the door, bowing at sound of his weary voice. 

-Keep them inside for two days. Don't forget to supply them with water and food. If after two days no signs of 

disease appear let them go out. I'm taking the girl with me to the Temple of Osiris.   


*****   


_About one month later, Home of Omnisedeck, Thebes_

Glinting of daggers in the red light of torches was bewitching. Air swished and glittered when the two blades were crossing and piercing it. Lean body of dancer appeared to be half-transparent, no more than shadow among other shadows. 

Then the music ceased abruptly on the shrillest note, reminding of the cry of the wounded bird, hiding in reeds on the banks of Nile. Imhotep closed his eyes… 

…The boat, floating down the river, with maimed body of Osiris, and two women, crying in the loneness of night… 

Crowd erupted in cheers and applause and the vision vanished. 

He sighted and turned to his brother, Omnisedeck. The elder man smiled: 

-I noticed that you like her. I'll send her in your room tonight. You saved her life, and she have to be grateful. 

Imhotep didn't reply. He was watching the dancer girl, who had put away her daggers, bowing graciously to her master's guests.   


*****   


He stayed near the window, staring at the palaces, temples and orchards of Thebes, ghostly in moonlight. Moonlight can play strange tricks with mortal eyes- the Great City of Pharaohs looked not only like it wasn't existing in reality-it looked like it never existed, like it was only the product of one's imagination. Pale shine on the horizon, reflection of moon light in the waters of Nile and in the sands of desert-it was the only real thing in this world, made of wind and shadows. 

Door creaked behind, and the slim little figure walked into the room. Dancer girl. She looked tentatively at High Priest, with a shade of smile on her lips, both shy and arrogant. Imhotep tore his gaze from the high cupola of Temple and nodded at girl. She was carrying a golden goblet in her hands, adorned with flower ornament. 

-You saved my life. 

Foreign accent in her voice made the words sounds even more charming. 

-You will be rewarded-continued girl, with the same mixture of shyness and arrogance, which amused 

High Priest. 

-I am the daughter of Minos, King of Crete. My name is Anthia, but they call me Anck-Su-Namun… 

That was really amusing! Imhotep restrained a smile, and answered with mocking pomposity: 

-Yes, Princess Anthia. And I am the son of Amon-Ra… 

-You laugh at me!-cried the girl indignantly and swiveled around, ready to leave the room. 

-No, don't run away, at least before you give me this goblet. I'm thirsty. 

She turned around, regarding him with the strange gaze of her long slanting eyes, then smiled and handed him a goblet. The red liquid in it smelled as mint and clove. 

-I hope, you wouldn't give me poison, my beautiful princess?-asked Imhotep with smile and sipped the drink. If 

he looked in the girl's face, he wouldn't be so sure. Strange expression appeared in her eyes-fear, expectation, 

hope? 

Whatever it was, what happened next was obviously surprise for her. Imhotep gasped, paled and fell on all four, violently spitting out the liquid. Girl shrieked and dashed to him, scared and ready to help, but all her eagerness was rewarded only by strong blow, which pinned her to the wall. High Priest scrambled on his feet and approached to Anthia, looking murderously. 

-You-hissed he-who sent you to me with poison? 

His strong arm clasped her throat, his eyes searching her face with loathing and disgust. 

-No…-whispered the girl, catching his hand.-It wasn't poison, I swear! 

-So what it was? Best wine from my brother's stores, to please his dearest guests? You better answer me now, 

girl, or you'll answer to executors under the torture! 

-It was-tears glinted on the tips of her long eyelashes-It was Love Potion! 

Perplexed, Imhotep let go of her neck and picked up the goblet with the last drops of mysterious liquid. He poured several red drops on his palm, tasted cautiously-and leaned to the wall in the fit of uncontrollable laugh. 

-You-coughed he at last-you, stupid chick-head, how much of dry roots of lotus you've put in it? It's your luck 

I used to poisons, girl, or it would kill me in a minute. Who told you the recipe? 

-My nurse…it was long time ago, back in my father's home… 

Girl blushed under her brown tan and was ready to fly, but Imhotep took her hand gently and stopped her. 

-No, my little witch. You should pay for your crime. 

Her lips tasted of mint and clove, and nigh wind from the upper Nile.   


*****   


When Imhotep woke up next morning, girl wasn't in the room. He descended to hall to talk with Omnisedeck, and nearly collided with his brother, who was smiling and happy as lurk. 

-This girl-started Imhotep. 

-Yes, the girl, can you believe it- great Pharaoh, Seti himself was charmed by her dance and took her to Palace 

with him!   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


NOW, DEAR READERS SHOULD I CONTINUE? IT DEPENDS ON YOUR REVIEWS!   
  
  
****

**Historical footnote to chapters 2 and 3:**   


**_Chapter 2:_**__

_Medinet El-Fayoum (Faiyum)___

_Originally named Crocodilopolis, then Arsinoe, Medinet El-Fayoum was the main place of worship of the crocodile god, Sobek. Apparently, during ancient Medinet, crocodiles were adorned with gold and fed honey cakes and meat by the priests._   
__

**_Chapter 3:_**__

_Imhotep:___

_Imhotep was a historical figure. He was the architect, physician, scribe, and vizier of the 3rd Dynasty pharaoh Zoser. It was Imhotep who conceived and built the Step Pyramid at Sakkara. In the Late Period, Imhotep was worshipped as the son of Ptah and a god of medicine, as well as the patron (with Thoth) of scribes. The Greeks considered him to be Asklepios, the god of medicine.___

_Maat___

_Considered the wife of Thoth and the daughter of Ra by various traditions, Maat's name implies "truth" and "justice" and even "cosmic order", but there is no clear English equivalent. She is an anthropomorphic personification of the concept maat and as such has little mythology. Maat was represented as a tall woman with an ostrich feather (the glyph for her name) in her hair. She was present at the judgement of the dead; her feather was balanced against the heart of the deceased to determine whether he had led a pure and honest life._   
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	4. Black sands.

TC4.html   


**Chapter 4: Black sands.**   
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****   
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_ " Early in Egyptian history, Seth is spoken of in terms of_   
_ reverence as the god of wind and storms"_   
  
_ List of Mythological Deities_   
  


He tried to forget. During next three years, in peace and in war, in Abydos and Karnak, building new 

temples and directing festivals- he stubbornly tried to forget one night. He was rarely seen in Thebes, 

almost never in Palace, and his strange conduct gave birth to dark rumors and gossips, and not only. 

Once he found a viper, coiled in his bed. Second time it was poisoned dart which flew from nowhere, 

when he was crossing his garden. He didn't care. The Temple of Osiris in Abydos , Hypostyle Hall in 

Karnak, annual festival of God's rebirth-it seemed that they were only things he cared about. Not the 

eyes, radiant as the reflection of moon on the sea surface. Not the smooth skin with this singular 

terracotta tint. No. Never. She was Pharaoh's mistress, morning star of Egypt, lone in her heavens, 

untouchable and splendid in her solitude. 

That's why he was only too happy to accept the mission, which his eldest brother had offered him. 

During the last months dim but terrifying news were coming from the southern borders, about the 

black sandstorms, devouring fields and destroying towns, and about something even more horrible, 

coming with the sands. The detachment of soldiers under command of Ardeth-An-Hor, Magi 

Second-in-Command, and several priests of Osiris were sent to the southwest to clear the situation. 

As a matter of fact, Imhotep considered this mission more like the exile, with warden-Magi to make 

sure that he'll never return in Egypt, but what could possibly make him more lone and banished than he 

was already? He abandoned the kingdom willingly, leaving behind hateful whispers of his foes and 

nosiness of his friends.   


********** 

  
Sun of hot month Payni burned its way through the abandoned pale heavens, glinted on the wheels of 

chariots and the tips of warriors' spears. Soon after they crossed Nile near Elephantine the scarce 

shelters of palm-trees and cypresses disappeared behind the hot yellow line of the horizon. Two days 

more and the last oasis melted away in the sun haze, but the goal of their trip still remained 

undiscovered. People started to complain about lack of water, and even strongest were on the 

border of endurance. But Magi stubbornly led them deep into the desert to inevitable death, as most of 

them considered. As little as he cared about his own life, Imhotep wasn't ready to sacrifice lives of his 

people to Ardeth's false pride, and he ordered to set a bivouac this night, determined to talk the 

warrior out of further journey. However, the destiny decided otherwise.   


**********   


Soldiers unharnessed tired horses and tied them to the long spears, drove deep into the sand in the 

center of camp. Chariots made the barrier, guarding people and beasts from the possible attack 

from the desert. The water was scarce, and horses were watered first, leaving people to quench their 

thirst with several gulps of hot dirty liquid. 

Imhotep lifted the covering of Magi's tent and walked in, squinting at gloom inside. 

Two people stayed in the tent, talking animatedly. First voice, deep and with strong northern accent, 

belonged to Ardeth-an-Hor. Second, hoarse and fizzing, with clear alien notes -it was voice of their 

guide, whom Magi commander hired in Elephantine. He was Nubian mercenary, hunter and soldier, from 

one of numerous black tribes dwelling on the southern border of Upper Kingdom. He called himself 

Lock-Nah and declared that he is familiar with all the trails and paths in this part of desert. Imhotep 

didn't trust him, but Ardeth seemed to go with him quite well. Now they spoke on Ardeth's native 

northern dialect, and the sound of his name uttered by Nubian made Imhotep linger at entrance, not 

hurrying to announce about his presence. 

- Ma ihlatta laasot ito? * _What are you going to do with him?_ *-snapped hunter, with more than 

ominous notes in his voice. 

- No more then my orders say. Not kill. Live him to rot in the desert. 

- You were paid for this, weren't you? 

- Yes. But I would do it even without pay. Or rather I would like to slice his throat with my own hand. 

- Such a strong emotions. Why do you hate him so? 

- That's not your business. Do what you were ordered. 

- Well, may be you are eager to finish him without any reward, but I'm not so disinterested person. 

I'm sure our friend Imhotep benefactors were generous, and you have a lot to share. 

- Shut up, you greedy beast, I've paid you enough already.   


High Priest listened to this dialogue not without a mild amusement, in spite of the fact that the object of 

bargaining was his own life. He even started to think about bet with himself whether his potential 

murderers would kill him first or rather finish each other, when wild terrified cries erupted from behind 

and interrupted his pondering. He jerked his head out of the tent just in time to see, as the shadow, 

darker then the gloom of approaching night, raised from the south.   


Black cloud consumed half of the darkening sky, hot stiffing wind was throwing handfuls of sand in 

peoples' faces, air, full of black sand, was stifling and blinding. Horses whinnied in horror and dashed 

into desert, breaking off the ropes. People cried, scattering around in frantic efforts to protect 

themselves from the sandstorm. Roar of hurricane, wild shouts of humans and beasts - but something 

more mixed with this terrible cacophony, something that made Imhotep grip fast the hilt of his sword. 

He was running towards the outer border of camp, trying to restore at least the shadow of order in this 

madly rushing flock of men. However, the roar of sandstorm drowned his voice, and the ghastly new 

notes appeared in this roar-the howl. Howling of wild beast or may be enraged human beings, he 

couldn't say, but instantly ugly black figures rushed from the clouds of sand on destroyed camp. Eyes of 

intruders sparkled white in the darkness, making them look like servants of Asmodai, Prince of 

Underworld. Horrible howling didn't stop. Attackers were carrying sabers and spears, and soon the 

Egyptian camp looked like slaughters- shreds of sliced human bodies covered black sand, which 

hungrily soaked up the blood.   


Imhotep remembered himself cutting off the head of the one of sandstorm creatures, then several of 

them surged at him, and he was fighting desperately, trying to cut his way to the rest of Egyptians, but 

something heavy and sharp crashed on the back on his head-and the darkness came.   
  
  
  
  
  


_HEY, IS IT STILL INTRIGUING? TELL ME IF I SHOULD CONTINUE!_   
  



	5. Prisoner

t3c5.html   
  


**Chapter 5: Prisoner.**

  


  
_ Knights would compete against one another_   
_ under the watchful eyes of the heralds and ladies_   
_ of the gallery, earning renown and fame while_   
_ they demonstrated their prowess.___

_ Knighthood, Chivalry & Tournament Glossary of Terms_   
__   
  


The tepid liquid moistened his dry lips and awakened him. He gulped it longingly, at first unconscious to the intense pain in the back of his head. Then the world came into focus- not to Imhotep's great joy. 

His head was leaned against the wall or something that he felt like a wall, and worried face, barely familiar, was wavering in and out of his sight. He squinted, trying to ignore fierce pain. To his surprise, he succeeded, and recognized the face at last. 

It was Lateef, youngest of his priests. He was holding a jar with water and when he noticed Imhotep's gaze, blissful smile blossomed on his boyish face. 

-Oh, bless Isis, you awakened! I feared you were wounded too badly. 

Personally, Imhotep was pretty sure that being unconscious was much better, but he suppressed a scorn and forced a feeble smile. He looked around. They were locked in the large dirty wooden cage, staying in the middle of dirty village square. Horrible stench drifted over the piles of waste, scattered between poor lop-sided huts made of palm-tree leafs and clay. 

He and his young attendance weren't the only prisoners. Three sulky soldiers, covered in dried blood, huddled in the opposite corner, eyeing Imhotep with obvious hatred. One of them noticed that he's back to conscience and spitted: 

-You! It's all your fault, you dirty bastard! You led us in this cursed desert to rot! 

-Only now he has to rot with us!- supported him second soldier-Where are your Gods now? Cannot see 

them hurrying to rescue their beloved son! 

And the warriors erupted in the fit of hoarse laugh. However, when the first of speakers met priest's gaze, he choked and crawled on his elbows to the back wall of the cell. "Evil eye" whispered he loudly and hastily turned his face away. 

Ignoring them, Imhotep looked up at young priest. 

-What happened? Where are we? 

However, it wasn't Lateef who answered him. Sneering familiar voice drawled: 

-Priest of Osiris back to life, great pleasure! I was sure that my blow had broken your skull, but you are 

really thickheaded one. 

Imhotep whirled back to see black smirking physiognomy of Lock-Nah, pressed against the bars.   
Of course, outside of the cell. 

-Double treason? Impressing work even for you, Nubian. 

-So, you do know. Even better. Spare me half of explanation. Look, I just considered, why should I take 

half if I can take all? This empty-headed Magi led you all in my trap, and whereas he was sure that it 

would be only trap for you, I decided otherwise. He was too greedy, this noble warrior of crown. 

-Was? So is he dead? ­ asked Imhotep. 

-Of now. Valiant commander Ardeth ran back to Egypt border with the rest of his brave soldiers, leaving 

you to die. Not that it was inconsistent with his plans. 

Imhotep shrugged and looked at the far end of the square, where some people were scampering around the huge ugly statue of woman. It was made of black stone, with fat belly and enormous breasts. Then he turned back to Lock-Nah. 

-What do you know about Ardeth's orders? 

-Eager to revenge, are you? Decent feeling, but pointless in your current state-sneered Lock-Nah, 

looking intensely at mysterious preparations ­ Well, if it was your last request. Don't know the names. 

But somebody with great importance wanted you dead. He mentioned once the Priest of Anubis. And 

somebody of army commanders. That's all. 

Somebody of army commanders...Cold hand clenched Imhotep's stomach. Mecktub, his own brother? Yes, it might be him. 

But it seemed he had no time for further pondering, because the tall skinny figure detached from the crowd and walked towards the cage with prisoners. Then the second one, with mask covering his face, stepped out of largest hut and joined him. 

They approached the cage, and Imhotep realized that the masked one was a woman, with hideous head of hyena hiding her face. She stopped next to the cage and stared at Egyptians from under her abominable hood. The second, old man with grizzled mane of filthy hair, croaked something on his language, and Lock-Nah nodded to him and translated: 

-You were lucky. If not for the annual ritual of rebirth, you all would be sacrificed to Goddess. But now 

Queen should choose one of you, foreigners, for the great honor-to fight with the previous king and to 

kill him. Or die. If you win, you will be her husband and king for this year. To be killed by the next 

contestant year later -this Lock-Nah apparently added from himself. 

Soldiers in the corner chortled, pointing at the woman in mask, and making rude comments about the size of her breasts and hips. 

-Shut up, you fools! ­hissed Imhotep, but too late. 

Woman turned to her tribesman and uttered something, her voice sharp and cold. Old man nodded and continued: 

-But first one of you will be sacrificed to great Goddess. You!- he pointed at the one of the soldiers, 

with broad smirk still fluttering around his face. His smirk faded immediately, giving place to 

expression of utter horror. 

-No!-cried he, when several savages grabbed his hands and dragged him out of the cage, to the giant statue. 

-Do something, Imhotep! ­pleaded the young priest, looking with terror as the body of their fellow prisoner disappeared behind the backs of swarming crowd. 

-Like what?-muttered Imhotep-Be quiet, or we all be killed. 

Woman and old man, obviously the priest of nameless Goddess, joined their tribesmen. 

Imhotep gripped the bars and got up, despite of severe pain in his head. People gathered around something, which looked like rough stone altar, and several of them started to chant. 

Imhotep recognized the song at once. It was the same wild howling chant, which came from the black storm. Pray before sacrifice. Already all the savages were swaying in the rhythm of the wild melody, joining it-and hundred of shrill voices welded into feral horrible hymn, hymn of death and devastation, cry of victim under the knife of priest, cry of priest when the hot blood poured from the fresh wound. 

Terrible melody was bewitching, devouring your soul, drowning it into dark surge-Imhotep clenched his fists with such force that his nails dug deep into flesh, trying to resist this bewildering power, and instantly the graceful image of dancing girl came into his mind, cleaning it from the delusions. 

He took sharp breath and looked at raving crowd-just in time to see priest's knife, lifting in the air and then rushing down, piercing the chest of hapless soldier. Shrillest note of incantation and the shrill cry of victim-and crowd gasped and roared in delight. Priest sliced prisoner's chest and ripped out the heart, still beating and bleeding. Now the ecstasy sounded in the song, the triumph of vulture devouring its still breathing victim…and then village people surged at altar and tore the corpse apart, feasting on bloody shreds. 

Imhotep turned his eyes away from disgusting sight, and looked at his younger minion. The boy twisted on the floor, violently sick. Remained soldiers looked petrified. 

The noise of approaching steps made him look back. It was Lock-Nah, his dusky skin now with faintly green shade; and hyena-masked woman. Her mask was now spotted with fresh blood. She peered again at bewildered Egyptians, then pointed at Imhotep and groaned: 

-At-na ta bohe! 

-You are the chosen. Congratulations , priest-scowled the Nubian.   
  
  
  


SHOULD I GO ON? 


	6. Fight

tc6 ****   
**** ****

**Chapter 6: Fight**   
  


_ -Honor is not a virtue._   
  
_ Knighthood, Chivalry & Tournament Glossary of Terms_   
  


When Lock-Nah strolled away with his strange companion, Lateef gasped in horror: 

- But, My Lord, you are wounded! You cannot fight! 

- Don't worry, boy,- answered High Priest with mirthless smile,- it won't be a fair   
combat. I know something 

about beliefs of these barbarians. They are ancient, their roots goes deep into history   
of humankind, possibly even to the time when Gods were like humans. Mortal. 

- Mortal gods? 

- For shame, priest of Osiris! Don't you know that your God died once, killed by his   
own brother? 

- But he resurrected again. 

- Of course. As the husband of their queen should resurrect in me. I said, this ritual is   
ancient, half-forgotten in our land. Every year the god should die to fertilize with his decomposing flesh theGoddess of earth. 

- That's horrible. 

- No more horrible than human sacrifices to Sobek, I would say. 

- But we sacrificed slaves, not kings! 

- Yes. And it's not to kings' credit. Because they savages consider it as a great honor,   
as you've heard -again crooked smile curled Imhotep's lips. 

Instantly one of the soldiers interrupted their talk. 

- And what they are going to do with us, priest? Murder on their damned altar and then   
eat on supper? 

That's what going to happen? 

Hysterical notes in his voice made Imhotep frown. He was responsible for their lives,   
regardless of his disdain for their cowardice and stupidity. And for life of young priest.   
And for his own, because he had to return to Egypt and find out who wanted his   
death. If not for anything else, he wanted to survive just because somebody needed   
his death that much. 

But aloud he said only:" They won't do nothing to you until the fight will be over. Don't   
do anything that can provoke them. Just wait for my move." 

Lateef looked at him hopefully, with kind of touching faith in his eyes, bit it hadn't   
please Imhotep a little because he wasn't so confident in himself; and soldiers   
grumbled and muttered in discontent but didn't dare to avow their doubts. 

Red sun rolled down the sky, coloring ground, houses and men faces in purple. In the   
dusk the square again was alive with swarming crowd, and this time the movement   
was more organized. People gathered around open space in the center, in front of   
Goddess statue, and surrounded it in several circles. Part of the villagers brought   
stones and they were now busy arranging them around the opening. 

Then the tall figure of priest approached to the cage, of course followed by the   
Nubian. Priest was carrying big horn of bull, and judging by caution of his steps it was   
full of some liquid. 

-Hantara pe!-ordered old man. 

-Drink this-translated Nubian with mean smirk on his face-Don't be afraid, it's not   
poison. 

Priest handed the flask to Imhotep, and he sipped the contents of it. It was bitter, with   
faint taste of blood and wormwood. Immediately the world around started to waver   
and spin around him. Voices became too loud, colors too sharp. He was now able to   
see minute grains of sand on his palms, twilight was transparent as the water in clear   
brook, and all the world separated to black and white, light and shadow. 

He heard a stiffened cry behind and whirled around. He noticed that his movements also became swift and alert, much faster than of usual man. And it was something   
else…Power. Strong, overpowering feeling of force, overflowing his mind, drowning   
reason and prudence. He was able to break man's neck with two fingers, to smash   
this cage, to fight with savages and defeat them all. To conquer the world. And it   
would be a worth thing to do. 

Ominous smile curled his lips …and then his glance fell on young priest's face. His   
boyish features twisted in grimace of horror and disgust. 

-My Lord…what have they done to you? 

Cold wave of awakened reason washed away the delusion. 

It was just a potion. He should keep self-control, at least he should try to do so. He   
closed his eyes, to stop the world whirling around. Then he spoke, not being able to   
recognize his own voice, which turned into deep growl: 

-I'm ready. What are we waiting for? 

Old priest nodded with content and waved at several of his attendants to unlock the   
cage. Imhotep stepped out of his temporal prison, still feeling that he could kill all the   
enemy warriors with his bared hands. The feeling was good but by no means   
dangerous. He tried to guess whether the same potion was fed to his adversary, to   
make the battle more entertaining. 

When he came closer to crowd, it parted, letting him pass, and erupted in furious cry.   
Then the same cry sounded from the opposite pat of the square, obviously greeting   
his opponent. And then the people silenced, as if giant hand of God covered the   
crowd. 

The Queen, hyena-headed woman stepped in the opening, illuminated by the red   
light of torches mingled with blood-colored moonlight. 

She had got on all four, raised her head to the statue of Goddess and started to wail. 

It wasn't a wail of human or beast, but something between them-the plea, the   
complain and the threat at the same time. Body of strange woman was bathing in   
reddish moonlight, throwing the huge black shadow on the sand-and suddenly   
Imhotep realized that it wasn't shadow of human female, but one of the big hyena. 

She wasn't human, this strange Queen of savage tripe. Possibly, she was a Goddess,   
abandoned by her mortal worshippers, half-forgotten, banned to live in desert among   
the wild people and wild animals. But still powerful and dangerous, still demanding   
sacrifices.   
  
And one of them stayed on the opposite part of the square. Imhotep looked in the   
eyes of his future adversary and saw the doom and submission to this doom in their   
dim depth. Tall, muscular man with glinting black skin, he must have been great   
warrior, but was going to meet his fate with the meekness of bull under the knife of   
butcher. If he have been crying, fighting, or simply complaining- Imhotep would   
respect or at least pity him, but how one could pity the cattle going to slaughters? 

The howl stopped abruptly, and Imhotep realized that it's his turn to act. He walked   
inside the circle, enclosed in stones, and at the same minute the dull racket rose over   
the crowd and village- people started to bang smaller stones against the boulders of   
fence, and ragged drumming melody floated to the dark sky. 

Flame of torches, wild music, smell of filthy flesh, sweat and blood-it all mingled   
droned in Imhotep's head as enormous gong. Black warrior, still with this look of   
victim in his eyes, stepped towards him-and tried to strike, but Imhotep easily dogged,   
using his new- attained ability to move faster then the wisp of smoke in the strong   
wing. One hit under the knee, one on the back of his adversary's head-and the black   
giant was lying on the ground, his face brushing the dirty sand. Imhotep glided to him   
and seized his neck with left forearm, raised warrior's chin and then pressed his spine, where the neck transits into the shoulders, with another hand. Dry cracking, quiver- and the defeatedman remained lying motionless onto the ground. 

Crowd gasped, ready to cheer-but Imhotep didn't stop his motion. In one move he   
crossed the open space and snatched the axe from the hands of Lock-Nah. Then, still   
in this continuous glide, he sliced Nubian's chest open, and, driving his weapon on   
sloping arc, plunged the blade into the neck of hyena woman. She gurgled, felling on   
her knees, blood fountained from the terrible wound. 

"When the gods were mortals "-thought blinked in Imhotep's mind and disappeared,   
washed out by the tide of fierce joy. He was moving through the crowd, easily   
avoiding their ill-aimed blows, slicing through the bulk of bodies as knife through the   
butter, heading for the cage. On his way he yanked the torch from the hands of some   
bewildered villager and threw it on the roof of nearest hut. Dried reed, covering it,   
flared up immediately, and now the crimson fire danced in Imhotep's dilated pupils,   
flushed his face, which wasn't the face of human being anymore, but the mask of   
enraged God or rather demon Ammit, devourer of human souls. He continued his   
motion to the cage, leaving behind chopped corpses and pools of blood.   


**********   


Golden bark of Amon-Ra floated up the sky river, and luminous God squinted at two strangers, staggering through the endless sands of desert. One of them, covered in dried blood from the head to the legs, was almost carrying another, who slumped helplessly on his companion's shoulder.   


SHOULD I CONTINUE?   



	7. Death in the desert

ttc7a.html Chapter 7: Death in the desert. 

_Every man is condemned to be alone in his life-and in his death._

Oedipus 

  


Imhotep squinted at burning pale sky to see Aton, the radiant sun disk, climbing up to the zenith of midday. He thought that   
could discern the luminous crown and the gracious outline of golden bark, but perhaps it was no more than delusion of   
feverish mind. It was time to rest, and he slumped wearily on the hot sand in the shadow of sloping dune, placing the   
motioness body of Lateef next to himself. 

He was carrying the boy all the morning and now the ache in his shoulders and forearms made the further progress   
impossible. He looked at the face of the youth. Lateef moaned something from the depth of his unconsciousness and smiled.   
Imhotep frowned, because this helpless smile reminded him about another young face, burning in fever, three years ago. He   
hadn't been going to deceive himself-the chance to leave this desert on the mortal side of the river was infinitesimal for both   
of them. And now, facing inevitable death, he had realized at last how foolish he was. Why handn't he say her anything? He   
always lowered his gaze when it met her searching eyes, her questioning eyes, her demanding eyes… 

…The carnage in the village ended almost as abruptly as it had started. Hideous bloodthirsty ghost was gone, leaving strong   
pain in Imhotep's temples and sickness. The soldiers had been killed, and he was afraid to confess even to himself that he   
wasn't sure by whom. Lateef had been wounded in the thigh by the poisoned dart as they fled through the grove of wilted   
palm-trees. During first two-three miles he bravely tried to walk by himself, limping and moaning in pain, but then it became   
clear that at such a rate they wouldn't come anywhere and the rest of the night Imhotep nearly dragged the youth on his   
shoulders. He still felt dizzy and nauseated after the potion, but stubbornly struggled through the endless sands of desert.   
Where? He lost the track hours ago, only the dim impression that they are going to the east, facing the furious raising sun,   
remained. It wasn't the right way, because the river, with water and life, was left behind, but there was also the savages'   
village, too. Initial Imhotep's plan was to skirt the village from the north, closer to Egypt border, and then return to the   
river, but now it seemed impossible. He was too exhausted, too drained to continue the way. 

He leaned against the sand hillock and looked again at his young fellow. The boy was dying. He needed antidote or at least   
water to wash the wound, but he had nothing, and also nothing to ease the pain. So may be it was better that he had fainted on   
the break of the day, and now had a very trifling chance to come in before death. Imhotep slumped on the sand, face up,   
gazing at the pale azure dome overhead. The thought, which crept in his mind, obviously wasn't noble, but he had never   
considered himself as the example of nobility. The boy was dying, and he thought that might be without this burden he would   
be still able to reach the salutary waters of Nile. And if he would … at this point the boy near him moaned, stirred   
impatiently and his eyes flung wide open. His dried lips parted, he was trying to say something.   


*******   


High Priest bent over the boy, striving to comprehend his words. Youth gulped convulsively, then muttered "You…" 

"What?" asked Imhotep, feeling the sharp pang of guilt rushing through him. "What do you want?" 

"I want you die", croaked the boy, with look of utmost hatred in his dark brown eyes. 

Imhotep staggered back, perplexed. 

"It's all you fault", continued Lateef, breathing shallowly and paling more and more with every word. "You'd lead us in the   
desert, and- look -all of us are dead, except of you. And you are just fine. Like bewitched. People around you die, and you   
just go over them, feeling nothing." 

Bewilderment faded away, giving up its place for the glowing rage. He dragged this idiot all the way on his back, instead of   
leaving him die in the damned village, and now he got in response insults in his face. But then the fury was gone, too, leaving   
nothing but weariness. But the boy continued: 

"When I was thirteen, my father promised to build a pool in our garden, full of water-lilies. Seven days after he was dead.   
Black pest had taken him. I've heard it was you who unleashed the curse." 

Imhotep shrugged. He felt too weary to object or apologize. He only thought that if it had been his last hour, he wouldn't been   
wasting it away on stupid accusations. And IT WAS stupid. He had healed hundreds of miserable men in the Temple of   
Osiris, had attended their death-beds and had helped their families…But then, instantly, something like freezing breath   
touched his face, prickled hairs on the back of his neck. Yes, but he wasn't the only one priest who had been attending the sick   
people, and most of his fellows had die, contaminated. And he was…just fine. Then he remembered the battle with Sherden,   
sea-peoples, pirates who tried to capture their crop of slaves near the river-mouth. The trained warriors around were falling   
like the palm-trees in the heart of tempest, but he was again…just fine. As if somebody invisible but immensely powerful   
raised his shield, protecting High Priest under the shower of arrows and darts. His mind raced back, back in the time, and   
then…He clenched his fists, trying to banish the unwanted memory…   
  


**********   
  


He was five years old when his father, Sekhemib, Commander of Pharaoh's Charioteers Troops and the third division of Seti's   
army, Suteh, returned home after the successful Canaan campaign in Northern Palestine. His second wife, Imhotep's mother   
(Imhotep's two elder brothers were the sons of Sekhimib's deceased first wife), cried in delight, his sons war-whooped,   
fighting for the right to touch their father's scimitar and play with his helmet. 

Early in the morning the family bark cast off from the wharf of their palace in Memphis and floated down the river, towards   
Heliopolis, to take part in the celebration of Pharoah's victory. Imhotep awakened with the first beams of sun, which   
penetrated the gray mist swirling over the river surface and stroked his face through the yellow canopy overhead. He jumped   
happily from his bed and ran to the ship's prow to gaze at the delicate straps of foam and small villages on the river' banks.   
Then…he didn't remember it quite well. May be, the ship pitched, when curious crocodile pocked it with its ugly head, or   
may be the wind played a little joke with the water below, or he was blinded by the sun blinks or white surf…next moment he   
had found himself in the cold spring water of Nile, beating desperately against minute waves, choking with water. He heard   
the cries from above, then something heavy splashed behind …water covered his face, filled his lungs…an then was darkness. 

As he had learned afterwards, it was his mother, who jumped after him. Rowers pulled him out of the water, unconscious but   
unharmed, but she had drowned almost immediately, sunk under the silent surface without struggle or cry. 

Several days after his father summoned him and announced evenly that he didn't consider Imhotep as his son anymore. The   
murderer of Lateema, it was how he had called him. It was the last words he had heard from his no-father, because several   
months later Sekhemib, famous warrior and commander, had been killed in the stupid border conflict. Imhotep didn't cry   
when he had heard about it. Then and now, he wasn't able to forgive and forget.   


*******   


Shadow fell on Imhotep's face, snapping the thread of his thoughts. He raised his eyes to see a vulture, slowly circling in the   
sky over his head. He lowered his gaze, and it fell on the face of Lateef, slack and expressionless. He touched the neck of the   
boy, but couldn't find a pulse. Young priest was dead, leaving Imhotep alone in the vast yellow bowl of burning desert.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
